


learning the sound of absence

by grim_lupine



Series: Pickpocket 'Verse [3]
Category: Ocean's Eleven (2001), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-22
Updated: 2008-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Danny goes to prison, Rusty doesn’t know what to do with himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	learning the sound of absence

-

\--

When Danny goes to prison, Rusty doesn’t know what to do with himself. For almost as long as he can remember, it has been _DannyandRusty_ , barely any room for breath in between.

So he travels. He drives, stopping wherever he wants to, until he finally ends up in California. He stops in a little bar outside of Palo Alto, because Danny isn’t there with him, and Rusty can feel himself itching for a fight. He walks in and sees college students—of age and underage, kids trying to be tough, drinking on their daddy’s and mommy’s dollar—and he knows that if he wants to, he’s found his fight.

He drinks for the next hour. He gets a little loud, a little reckless. He waits for the body slouched next to him, brushing his arm casually in a way that means _ease off a little_ , that he can understand and no one else can, but it never comes. He sets his shoulders and orders another drink.

He feels eyes on him, again and again, but try as he might, he can never figure out who it is. Before he can wait for the prickling feeling on his neck to start up again, someone bumps into him hard. When he looks up, he sees a big, beefy man glowering at him, reeking of alcohol.

“Watch it,” the man growls, like a walking cliché, glaring even harder. He moves forward, swaying toward the direction of the bathroom, but not before Rusty has taken everything in his pocket.

He feels eyes on him again, and this time when he turns around, he sees a kid staring at him like he’s had his heart pulled out and ground into the floor, like he’s lost something and only just realized it.

The kid is tall, even hunched in his seat, and his hair is a little too long, like he’s never grown it out before and doesn’t quite know what to do with it. He stares at Rusty’s hands, and then his face, and Rusty knows that his lift has been spotted. He also knows that, even with as many drinks as he’s had, his hands were quick enough that it _shouldn’t_ have been spotted.

Rusty stares back unabashedly, and the kid swallows hard, but doesn’t look away.

Rusty knows what he _could_ do. He could leave here and take the boy with him. He could find a hotel room, or maybe go to his place, and he could make himself forget the feeling of being alone in a world where he hasn’t been alone for a very long time.

The kid has hurting eyes.

Rusty pays for his drinks and walks out the door. He has his own troubles. He doesn’t need to take on someone else’s.

\--

-


End file.
